Canary
by ArtificialImagination
Summary: Have you ever wondered how it feels, to be a caged bird? One that knows and has tasted of the freedom it’s been denied? To be forced to sing, yet not able to sing another happy song? To be trapped behind iron bars? Rated R for creepy Erik and such.
1. Prolouge Trapped

A/N: Yes, I know, it sounds incredibly strange. But just give it a chance, please. It's a little...unusual. But I think it'll turn out pretty good.

Now, for the things you hate to hear:

This is not Erik/Christine, Raoul/Christine or even Erik/Raoul. Yes, it is the dreaded Erik/Another woman. Please, keep reading. Just read the story and let me know if you didn't like it (just no flames, please).

This is a Mary-Sue. I am humble enough to admit it. But don't go away just yet, please. It may not be your normal Mary-Sue. Anyway, it's worth it just to see this Erik, of whom gave me nightmares. This is based off a roleplay my friend and I have been playing for a while. Just to give you a small idea, she took some inspiration for this Erik from Hannibal Lecter in the movies Red Dragon, Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal. My friend who played Erik is Vampiress787. I'm writing the fanfic version, but without her there would be no story. So half the credit goes to her.

Another thing you won't want to hear: There will be many a flashback in this fanfic. But I promise to make it worth your while, or at least make it up to you. Writing fanfic is much different then roleplaying...I can't just /tell/ you what happened. I have to /show/ you.

Also, it'll be a bit awkward writing certain parts, since I'm not certain WHAT was going through Erik's head at times, but I promise to do my best.

I realize that at times certain relationships or backgrounds may seem confusing. I apologize. It's just that sometimes it seemed the characters were telling ME their background, rather then ME deciding it.

Also as a warning: I use many different song lyrics in this story. It is only because I used the songs in the game and some of them greatly changed what happened, and I don't know if any of the others may have changed anything. So I'm keeping most of them. So there.

Another thing: I'm not certain if I want to edit the content of this. Thing is, some things can pass in roleplaying that can't in fanfiction. If you want the full, unedited version let me know. If you'd rather have it a bit more on the realistic side, please let me know. Thank you.

The full genre: Horror, Suspense, Drama and Romance.

Rating: Rated R not only for some creepy-acting Erik, along with other creepiness. It's also R for mention of rape, implication of rape, discussing rape...you get the idea. Also R for violence and dark themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does, and I refuse to believe anyone who says so otherwise.

One last note: My writing style in this is a little...different. Let's just call it 'original'.

* * *

NOVEMBER 20TH, 1881

At first, the only thing she was aware of was darkness. But then she was able to use her other senses. Smell: the smell enough made her feel like she was going to be sick. The scent of filth, of molding walls and rotting flesh and rancid water. Taste: She tasted a horrible bitter taste in her painfully dry mouth, and also the almost sweet taste of blood. Hearing; she heard the steady sound of water dripping; of rats' claws on a stone floor; of chains softly clinking. Feel; She could feel the muscles in her legs getting weaker, ready to give; She could feel sharp pain in her back and the cold and rough surface of a brick wall behind her; of overwhelming pain as the raw flesh of her wrists and ankles brushed against the metal of her restraints. She felt the cold that chilled her to her bones, and made her feel as though she had been thrust into icy water. And finally, Sight: As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see a small wooden chair in front of her; and little further, metal bars. She was inside a small cage. As her eyes grew more adjusted, she could see that she might have been in some sort of sewer, and that a tunnel stretched ahead of her.

Then, she felt a new sensation: Unendurable pain, but not physical pain. Emotional pain. Tears fell from her eyes, and she suddenly could not draw breath.

As a child, she had crawled into her sisters' bed to escape from nightmares. Now that she was an adult, there was nowhere to escape to.

"No..." it barely came out as a hoarse whisper, yet to her it may as well have been a scream. All she could see were images...memories. A gun aimed at her head. Then aimed behind her. Blood, screams, tears. A horrible chill. Guilt. She couldn't have simply kept silent; she couldn't have let it just happen. No, she had to say something. And now, now, because of that, her beloved sister, dead. Blaming eyes following her. Angry, hurt eyes. Rough hands pulling her away from a still body, dragging her into the night air. Being forced into a carriage. Darkness.

She snapped back into reality as she saw a dark figure in front of her and heard the click of a lock. The door to her cage squeaked open-her _cage. _Like a bird in a cage.

The figure slowly moved into the cage, then closed the door behind it. Locked the door, and tossed the key to another dark figure standing behind it. The first figure unlocked her restraints, first her ankles, then her wrists. She collapsed to the floor. The skin on her wrists and ankles was red and blistered, and bleeding. How long had she hung there?

"So." said a cool, dark voice beside her. It paused, an awful silence that seemed to last forever. What was about to happen? What was he going to say? Was he going to kill her, or worse?

"So." It said again. "Ready to play, dolly?"

* * *

_RubyMoon's Secret Place:_

RubyMoon: I couldn't simply do away with my ending authors' notes. But I promise to keep them mostly sane this time. Anyway. I seem to have a bad habit of writing short prologues (see PhantomessAbigail's and my fanfic, Appearances). Strange. Anyway, I took a jab at the date. It's supposed to be two days after Christine was kidnapped by Erik (the final time...and going by the Gaston Leroux book, I suppose...in a way). I would try to figure out a more exact date, but I don't have any of my books with my right now and I can't upload this at home (no internet anymore). And I can't wait until I bring my books over here, because by that time this computer may be gone. And I don't have any discs to save it on. So, if anyone has any suggestions for a more exact date, I would be more then happy to hear it. Thank you. Please review (criticism welcomed, flames not). Ja Ne!


	2. Chapter One I'm Not That Girl

A/N: This is a little strange...I was writing it on little sleep, after drinking a quarter of a Monster energy drink and being hyped up on a M&M/Oreo McFlurry (owned by McDonalds...) and a Tripple Thick Strawberry Milkshake. And it was past one AM. I've gone through and edited it best I could.

A line in here was stolen from the movie Rigoletto. Also, Vampiress, I could not remember exactly what happened at the end of that scene (or, rather, what was said), so I guessed since I don't have the time or opportunity to call you just now.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does. And just so I don't get into trouble again: Erik owns himself. I know I just contradicted myself, but I don't want to be in trouble with either my...er... 'friend', or anyone who might pick me randomly to sue.

I do not own the song 'I'm Not That Girl' from Wicked.  That's owned by someone other then me (I don't know who).

Also: If you'd like to see pictures of almost all the characters that will be in this story, e-mail me and ask for the address. They're not EXACTLY how they look, but close enough.

Enjoy.

* * *

TWO MONTHS AND A YEAR LATER

* * *

The same woman walked warily down the halls of the Paris Opera. At first glance it may have appeared that she was afraid that the Phantom lurked beyond every corner, but that was not true. It was a slightly more earthly and terrifying force she was wary of.

Her sister. Her sister, and her sister's fiancée.

How oddly dark the Opera looked now. It had barely been over a year since she had worked there previously, and now it looked harsh and gloomy, whereas before it had been dazzling and splendid. She supposed that after the things she had gone through, even Heaven may have seemed devilish and insincere.

Then again, before she had been there as a dancer, and then a promising singer; now she was there to design costumes. Once she had been the understudy of the 'great' La Carlotta and even under the legendary Christine Daaé. And then...

Wait. That subtle, controlled voice that seemed to be directly behind her? The light, airy tone of it? Wasn't that...?

The woman looked over her shoulder briefly. Yes, yes it was. Her sister was talking to the managers. She could hear their muted voices, speaking about the grand ball that was to be thrown in her sister's and her sister's fiancée's honor.

The woman glanced around a brief moment, and then opened a near-by door and closed in. She listened as the voices drew nearer and nearer, until they were right in front of her, and then as they faded away. She breathed a sigh of relief then turned around.

She remembered this room. It had once been the dance studio until the ballet girls refused to enter it, having 'heard the Phantom threaten them' far too many times. So they found another, more convenient room.

_This _room was lined with mirrors along two walls, which reflected the womans appearance too many times for her comfort. Her golden brown hair reached a little past her narrow shoulders, her subdued hazel eyes looked oddly blue by the pale blue color of her dress. Her skin was rather too dark, she wished she had been fairer; and her lips were a light shade of pink. She was somewhat small for a lady of her age. She always had been rather small, always had been thin and always had been shorter then anyone she knew of her age, though not by too much. Her older sister had always been the pretty one. With long, golden hair, and blue-green eyes, fair skin and dark red lips. She had been elegantly tall, but still quite slender without looking as though she were starving. Beautiful, stunning, striking, attractive. How she wished she could look like her sister.

An old black piano stood near one side of the room; the woman walked over and pushed a few keys, seeing if it was in tune. Discovering that it was, she sat down and played a few chords. Soon, the chords became an all-too-familiar song. A song she had written with her sister, and her sister's fiancée. Of course, at the time, he had been _hers..._

_Flashback – November 19th, 1881_

"It's intermission already?" the woman asked her companion, a well-dressed handsome man, who obviously was not French.

"Yes, Denise." He answered.

Denise glanced to the other side of her, to her sister.

"Are you alright? You look tired." Denise said.

"I'm fine." Her sister answered with a weak smile. "I'll just leave a moment for some air. I'll be back soon."

"Do you need me to come with you, Mademoiselle Noel?" Denise's escort asked.

"No, thank you, Monsieur Sully. I'll be back before the Opera begins again." Her sister said, and stepped out.

Denise and her escort-Simon Sully-chatted casually, waiting for Denise's sister-Rosemary-to return. However, by the time the curtain went up again she had not returned.

"Should we go look for her?" Denise wondered.

"No, Denise." Simon said. "I'll go make certain she's alright. There is no reason for us both to miss the Opera."

"Well...alright. Come back soon."

"I will."

He said, and left. Yet halfway through the second act, he still had not returned. Remorsefully, she stood and walked out of the Box. She stepped outside and looked around, but did not see either of them. So she stepped inside and looked about. Passing by the stairs that led to the roof, she noticed something shining on a step. She walked over and picked it up, and examined it. Her sisters' ring. She walked up the steps, wondering why Rosemary would possibly be up there. She pushed the door open slowly, and stepped onto the roof. After a moment of looking around, she found them-Rosemary in Simon's arms, him whispering soft words to her.

Denise would have thought he was only comforting her, that Rosemary was upset because of..._something,_ she could not think of what, but then she saw Rosemary lift her head, and Simon lower his, and their lips meeting.

She froze, unable to think, to move, to _breathe._ Suddenly, Simon lifted his head and looked at her.

"De-Denise." He stuttered. She didn't respond- she _couldn't_ respond.

"Elphaba, please." He pleaded, leaving Rosemary's arms and walking towards her.

"No!" she heard her self scream. She clawed his ring off her finger and threw it at him. "Don't call me that anymore!" She felt her legs turn, her arms throw the door open with ease that had earlier been difficult to open, felt herself running down the stairs as fast as she possibly could. She heard Simon behind her, shouting something at her, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear him and she didn't care if she could- all she could see was her love's arms around her sister, his lips kissing her perfect sister...

She didn't stop running until she could no longer recognize where she was.

_End Ultra-Dramatic Flashback_

Denise Noel hummed the familiar opening, and then she sang the words:

"_Hands touch,_

_Eyes meet._

_Sudden silence,_

_Sudden heat._

_Hearts lead in a giddy whirl._

_He could be that boy,_

_But I'm not that girl._

_Don't dream_

_Too far_

_Don't lose sight of_

_Who you are._

_Don't remember that rush of joy._

_He could be that boy,_

_I'm not that girl._

_Ev'ry so often we long to steal_

_To the land of what-might-have been._

_But that doesn't soften the ache we feel _

_When reality sets back in._

_Blithe smile,_

_Lithe limb._

_She who's winsome,_

_She wins him._

_Gold hair with gentle curl._

_That's the girl he chose,_

_And heaven knows,_

_I'm not that girl._

_Don't wish,_

_Don't start._

_Wishing only wounds the heart._

_I wasn't born for the rose and pearl._

_There's a girl I know,_

_He loves her so._

_I'm not that girl."_

She paused, thinking. Her voice wasn't exactly soubrette soprano, which seemed to be the manager's favorite. She had a spinto soprano voice, deep and rich, yet not quite alto. She remembered when...

"You need training." A voice interrupted her thoughts. An angelic, deep, rich tenor voice, whose beauty was beyond description. Oddly, it sounded familiar.

A moment later, she knew who it was.

"Monsieur Phantom?" she asked softly.

"You sing like a goat." The voice continued.

She already knew that. She knew she had never really had any talent for singing.

"Monsieur Phantom..."

The voice suddenly sounded enraged.

"Get out! Get out of this room, and never come back here!" It commanded.

"Yes, Monsieur Phantom." She said. She stood and walked quickly out of the room. She walked swiftly down the halls and out of the Opera before she paused to catch her breath, of which she had lost when she had heard that voice. Fear causes you to lose your breath.

And if there was one thing she had learned from her time at the Opera, it was to never, _ever_ question the Phantom's orders.

* * *

RubyMoon's Secret Place

* * *

RubyMoon: Don't worry. This and the next two chapters will probably be the slowest chapters in the whole darn thing (I may have to turn this fanfic into a trilogy, so many things happen). It WILL pick up.

You don't really get to see Erik's 'creepiness' here, but it'll show up. Real soon. See hint above.

Please, please, PLEASE review! I know, I'm resorting to begging, but I live off of reviews. And thanks to those who already reviewed. - You two made my day.

Ja Ne!


	3. Chapter Two Auditions

A/n: Fianlly updating. Sorry for the long wait, and for the shortness of this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own Elizabeth White. The Phantom of the Opera is owned by Gaston Leroux (...does to...) and Elizabeth White belongs to Vampiress787.

* * *

A week later, Denise was alone in the costume-room, sketching. She had convinced herself that she enjoyed this- the privacy, the quiet of being alone. There were beautiful things surrounding her: bright colors of silken fabric, white lace strewn everywhere, glitter covering everything. The only sounds were of people walking by, going about their business, whether it be cleaning or seeing the management or gossiping (with occasional dancing). There was also the slight sound of her pencil against the paper, and it was oddly calming. She could escape the world while designing. She could convince herself there were no such things as lust or greed or evil.

The only problem was she couldn't quite get the design for the new costume for _Norma_ quite right. Though it didn't quite matter...there was no lead soprano yet. Carlotta was long-gone, and their replacement had suddenly disappeared (probably with her lover). So today they were holding auditions.

Whenever a drawing had her really frustrated, she'd leave the room and stand outside the stage (where they were auditioning singers). The second was worse then the first, some as bad as Carlotta, until Denise couldn't stand it anymore. She'd walk back to the Costume Room, feeling better about her own horrible singing, but worse about the costume design. If the singer they hired was as bad as Carlotta, then the costumes better stick in the patron's memories.

Then again, people didn't go to the Opera for the Opera anymore. Now they only came to 'see and be seen'. That had always been why Rosemary and Simon came. Simon especially. He seemed to dislike the whole world of Opera, and only stood it because it was Denise's passion and the social beehive. If you weren't there every single gala night, you weren't worth knowing.

Denise forced herself to stop thinking about Simon. If she thought about him too much, her heart would start to hurt and tears would prick her eyes and she would lose her cool, calm façade. And that was something she could not possibly allow.

Denise took in a deep breath and enjoyed the scent of the lead, the dead roses in a vase in the corner of the room, and the oil lamp mixing together. It calmed her thoughts and helped her concentrate better. All she had to think about now was drawing what she had in her mind.

One fine line here, one there. Small circle here, there. Lines. One line after another after another…

"You should audition."

A dark voice echoed though the room. Denise dropped her pencil, but not before jumping and ruining the sketch.

Her mind screamed: _It's the Phantom! What does he want with me?_ Why was he here _again_, talking to _her_?

It took her a moment to process the exact words: _You should audition. _What? Hadn't he told her she sounded like a goat a week ago? Surely he _knew _she couldn't sing. He was the Phantom, after all. He knew everything there was possible to know about music. He should know, then, that there was no possible hope for her voice, and therefore no possible hope for her to make the audition. And besides, she didn't want to sing anyways. The last she had _truly_ sung was with Simon, unless you counted that one time…but that was more of releasing her _soul _than singing…

All this was thought in only a brief moment, and a short brief moment later she responded:

"What?" she asked, in shock. In that situation, it was the only thing she could think of to say. That, and the fact that fear was beginning to grip her insides, making it impossible to breathe or think. Why was she so terrified?

_Because he's killed, _her mind answered.

_But surely he doesn't mean to kill me… _she argued with herself. But then…why did she have this feeling of awaiting doom?

"You should audition." The voice repeated itself, in the exact same tone. It didn't sound amused or annoyed…simply…empty…completely devoid of emotion.

"I can't sing, you said so yourself." Denise said stupidly. Her mind was numb, she could only say the first words that came into her mind…she couldn't wait and think of something more elegant to say.

"You should audition." The Phantom repeated again, but this time went on: "I said that you _needed training._"

"You also said I sung like a goat." Slipped out of Denise's mouth before she could stop it.

"Audition." The voice sounded commanding now.

"No." Denise said, and then gasped. Had she-no, she couldn't have-

She quickly gathered her things and ran for the door. Her hand was on the handle when the Phantom spoke again:

"Audition." He sounded angry now.

Denise turned to face the room. She knew she wouldn't be able to find him in there (how long _had _he been in there?), but she felt it would only be polite if she _tried_ to face him.

"Monsieur Phantom, I don't want to. I can't sing, and I do not wish to. Please, let me be." She asked, and then left the room.

* * *

A few days later, Denise walked down the halls of the Opera, heading for the Costume Room. She had finally gotten the costume for _Norma _just right, and now she had to find the right fabric for it.

"Mademoiselle Noel!" a young messenger-boy ran down the hall. Denise recognized him as young Pierre, the manager's personal messenger.

"Yes, Monsieur?" she asked.

"The managers want to see you, right away!"

Denise's heart almost stopped. Why? Why would the managers want to see _her?_ Did they know she had been speaking with the Phantom? Did they want her to speak to her sister about something?

She began down the hall, questions of that nature plaguing her mind. When she finally reached the office door, it was closed. She glanced around, looking for their secretary to let her know if they were seeing someone or not, but she didn't see him. She knocked softly on the door.

"Come in!" she heard one snap. She took in a deep breath then opened the door and stepped in.

Both the managers were behind one large desk, which was covered with papers. There was a small statuette of the Emperor in one corner of the desk, and the desk was of red oak. There was an old bookcase by them, as well, but Denise didn't have enough time to look at the rest of the room.

"Mademoiselle Noel, good." Said one of the managers as he stood. Was it Monsieur Firmin, or Monsieur André? She could never tell them apart…

"You asked for me, Monsieur?" Denise asked softly.

"Yes." He said, looking for something on his desk, which was covered with new contracts. They had been completely re-forming the cast lately. "You are our new lead soprano."

Denise's mind went blank for a moment, until one thought managed to enter her mind: _The Phantom._

"Monsieur, I am afraid you must be mistaken." She said. "I did not audition."

"No matter. We have a note here saying that you are the new lead..."

"Who is the note from?" Denise asked, and the manager froze, realizing what he had just said.

"I cannot say."

"May I see it?"

"No."

Denise sighed.

"Monsieur, I do not sing. I _will_ not sing."

"You do not have a choice, Mademoiselle. You have a signed contract." The other managers said, holding up a paper that Denise immediately recognized. It was her contract...a contract she had signed five years ago, when she hadn't been smart enough to not only read through it, but study it as well. It had never specified her exact job there. Simply that she would earn maximum salary for her position, and that her time there would last ten years. It had seemed so ideal before, but now it was her cage...

"Your understudy is Mademoiselle Elizabeth White. We suggest you speak to her before rehearsals, which begin tomorrow at two o' clock. Good day, Mademoiselle." Said the manager who had risen first. Denise opened her mouth to argue, but it was useless.

"Good day." She said, and she turned and left the office.

She sighed on her way down the halls back to the costume room. Why? Why had this happened? She knew she couldn't sing, she had been told that all her life, and she finally had started to believe it. It didn't matter that she had once been the understudy of such singers as Carlotta and Daaé, it didn't matter that many thought _she_ would be the next big star. It all came down to one thing- no one cared what the Opera sounded like, they only came to _see _and to _be seen._

Lost in her thought, she did not notice the moment when a lady her age stepped in front of her until it was too late; they collided.

"Oh! I'm sorry." They both said at the same time. The lady laughed, and Denise smiled weakly.

"Do you know where the managers' office is? I was told to see them; I'm the new understudy..."

"Right down this hall, to the right." Denise told her. "Mademoiselle White?"

"Yes, how did you...?"

"I just came from the office. I am Denise Noel, the Opera's new lead soprano."

"Oh!" Mademoiselle White exclaimed. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, as well." Denise said with another weak smile. This lady was a couple inches taller then her, with nearly the same blonde hair her sister had, but dark blue eyes instead of light. She was fair, and slender, and soft-spoken and everything Denise wanted to be.

"Perhaps we should practice together sometime?" Mademoiselle White suggested.

"Yes, perhaps." Denise said.

"I should go to the office now...pleasure meeting you." Mademoiselle White said again.

"Yes, indeed. Good day." Denise said.

"Good day." Mademoiselle White said with a bright smile, then she walked around Denise to the managers' office.

Denise followed her into the office with her eyes, and wished her better luck then she had had with them.

* * *

RubyMoon's Secret Place

RubyMoon: Well, there it is. Not great, but after the next chapter things begin to...spice up. Please Review. Ja Ne!


	4. Chapter Three As Long As You're Mine

A/n: Sorry about the wait. This chapter is a little slow, but its what connects the beginning to the exciting part. Next chapter is where the entertaining stuff begins.

I understand there has been some confusion as to the connection between the prologue and the rest of the story. Over the next few chapters, that will be explained. If not, well, it'll be explained even clearer later on.

This isn't best writing in the world, I'm sorry. But this part of the game happened almost a year ago, and I can't remember a lot. I wrote it in pieces (for instance, the beginning of this chapter was written last). I apologize.

xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx, I WILL read your story, promise. I haven't had much time lately, I'm sorry.

Please review.

* * *

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"About the ball!"

"Oh, yes! The one Monsieur Sully and his fiancée, Mademoiselle Noel is hosting."

"Yes! It's going to be magnificent! Are you going?"

"But of course!"

Conversations such as that could be heard all over the Opera. The said ball was that night, being held in honor of the Operas best patron, Monsieur Simon Sully's, engagement. The best food and wine and champagne had been purchased, the best decorations being put in place, the best musicians hired (even Carlotta was planning on making an appearance). Not a single detail was spared. The entire ballet-corps, as a whole, seemed to have gone on one massive shopping-trip. They bought the best dresses they could afford, the best hair decorations, and the best perfume. They began to try and figure out the most splendid ways to style their hair and began practicing their best small-talk. Thousands of eligible men would be there, most with titles, and some even from England. Of course, the French were not particularly fond of the English, however to a ballet girl, a title was a title.

It all seemed rather ridiculous to Denise. But then, of course, only a year ago she had been doing the same things. Buying the most lavish gown, the most expensive perfume, and the most stunning flowers for her hair…all for the same man that this ball was for. But then, she had been the lady on his arm back then, and not her sister…

The most subtle of details changed her whole outlook on the ball.

Of course, she wasn't going. She'd stay in the Costume Room, finishing her designs, and begin to remove her things from the Opera. And she would not cry. No, she would not shed a single tear.

She wouldn't.

* * *

She had lied to herself. Again.

As she placed more and more of her unused designs into a small bag, tears began to fall down her face. Funny that she should be so miserable when she could hear cheery music and happy laughter coming from down the hall. She could almost hear her sister whispering into Simon's ear, almost see him smiling, almost see them dancing, with everyone watching them. It would make her Father almost happy to see them together. It would bring him even closer to see how wretched she was, hiding in this dark room, staining fabric and sheets of paper with her uncontrollable tears.

She could almost feel his eyes on her, watching her…then again, that could always be the Phantom.

She brought her head up and looked around, and, of course, saw no one. Sighing, she picked up the bag. She'd finish the rest later.

Walking past the foyer where the ball was contained, she heard her sister's sickly-sweet voice ring out with laughter. Denise felt quite inadequate as she slowly walked by, seeing all the ladies in their fine, extravagant gowns. She only wore a simple black dress.

"The Phantom?" she heard her sister. "The Phantom is ridiculous! All those foolish _demands_ and such. Honestly, the managers should hunt him down once and for all!"

Denise smiled faintly, and almost felt sorry for her sister. Surely, if the Phantom had heard, he wouldn't let that remark pass so easily…

* * *

Denise's eyes snapped open as she heard a strange sound from her sister's room, down the hall. It had almost sounded like something breaking. She slowly pulled back the covers and got out of bed. As she placed a robe around her, she heard her sister scream, but then the scream ended sharply. Her heart beating franticly, Denise opened her door and began to run quietly down the hall. She opened the door a crack and looked in and saw her sister as far back against the wall as she could get, and a tall, dark shadow in front of her. Its eyes were piercing red, and glaring into Rosemary's blue ones. Rosemary was frozen in terror, it seemed, and now Denise saw why: There was a rope around her neck, and the end was held by the Phantom. Denise's gasp went unheard as the Phantom spoke in his powerful, majestic voice:

"_Never mock me again, _do you understand?" Rosemary nodded, her face turning blue. "I strongly suggest you never come back to the Opera again."

Rosemary nodded again, and the rope was removed from her neck.

"**_Do you understand?_**"

"Yes!" Rosemary gasped.

"Good." The Phantom purred. Denise's heart stopped with dread…she knew what was going to happen before it did. Rosemary's eyes turned to look at Denise, and then the Phantom turned and saw her. Denise gasped again, and stepped away from the door. She ran back to her room and shut the door, locking it behind her. She closed her eyes as she leaned against the door, catching her breath and waiting for the Phantom to come and kill her.

…but nothing happened. She stood there for what seemed hours…but no one came. Slowly, she opened the door and peeked out. Seeing no one, she walked to her sister's room. No one was there, either. Panicked, she ran downstairs. Had he taken her sister? Was he killing her now?

"Denise!" a sharp voice came from the kitchen. Denise breathed a sigh of relief and she walked into the kitchen. Rosemary stood there, making tea.

"What did you do?" Rosemary demanded.

"I…I didn't do anything."

"He was about to kill me! And then…then you opened the door and he stopped. What did you do? Did you…"

"No!" Denise insisted, suddenly knowing what Rosemary thought had happened.

"How can I be sure? After…"

"Rosemary, please!" Denise begged, tears pricking at her eyes. "I would never do that. Never."

"…go to bed, I don't want to see your face anymore." Rosemary said, before turning away. Denise swallowed, then nodded and left the kitchen.

* * *

The next day, Denise stood uncomfortably on the stage along with Mademoiselle White and Monsieur Basset (the new lead tenor understudy), facing most of the Opera's cast and crew, who were sitting in the audience. The managers stood a few feet beside her, making their announcements.

"Denise Noel is the new lead soprano. With it being so late in the season, we hope you will all help her get ready." Said…Monsieur Firmin?

"And, as most of you are aware," interrupted the other manager, "our lead tenor walked out a few weeks ago. He shall be replaced by Monsieur John Sully."

Denise swayed. John? Surely it wasn't the same…

…but it was. He walked onstage with his wide, bright white smile, his chestnut brown eyes sparkling. His chestnut hair was untidy, yet in a captivating way. He stood tall and straight, dressed perfectly, as flawlessly handsome as ever. His strong chin, high forehead, faultlessly shaped eyes…Denise wasn't the only woman who swayed.

"John?" she heard her voice say.

"Denise!" John exclaimed in delight as he spotted Denise. He walked up to her until he stood only a foot in front of her.

"I thought you went back to England?" she asked Simon's younger brother.

"I did," John answered, "However, it seems I am attracted to France too much."

"…They seem to know each other." One of the managers said. Denise turned from John in embarrassment, and the managers continued their announcement.

"This is Monsieur Francis Basset, the new tenor understudy," the manager spoke loudly as Monsieur Basset nodded his head to the audience and John went to introduce himself, "And this is Mademoiselle White, our new soprano understudy."

John looked at her, paused, and then went to introduce himself.

"_Bonjour_," he said, his slight English accent coming through, "_Je suis John Sully. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer._"

"Hello, Monsieur." Elizabeth said softly, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. "I'm Elizabeth White, and it is a pleasure to meet you, as well."

Denise watched, with a smile. It seemed the entire Sully family had the same look in their eye when…

"Alright, rehearsal for today is cancelled, since our new leads still need to memorize their script. Good day." One of the managers said bitterly. There were suddenly great amounts of sound, of people standing and talking and dropping their scripts and running into each other. But, from the look on his face, it may as well have been silent for John, for he heard nothing but his conversation with Elizabeth.

Denise joined them, as did Monsieur Basset a moment later.

"We should practice together tonight." Elizabeth suggested.

"Excellent idea." John said immediately.

"I cannot come; I am having dinner with my daughter and her fiancée." Monsieur Basset said. "Perhaps I can join you another night?"

"Of course." Denise said, a smile on her face. Why was she smiling? Perhaps it was habit to smile politely to strangers.

"And you, Mademoiselle White?" John asked after Monsieur Basset excused himself.

"I have nowhere else to be."

"Where shall we have it?" Denise asked.

John paused, considering. Then he walked after the managers, stopping them. After a moment of conversing with them, he came back.

"We can have it here. We can use the piano in the orchestra pit. You still play, Denise?"

"Yes."

"Then, it's agreed?" Elizabeth asked.

"Here, tonight. What time?" John asked.

"Anytime is perfect." Elizabeth and Denise said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Alright, then. Seven O Clock?"

Denise and Elizabeth nodded.

"I shall see you both there then, Mademoiselles."

"Good day, Monsieur." Elizabeth said.

"Goodbye, John." Denise spoke softly.

* * *

"We ought to warm up our voices, somehow." Elizabeth suggested after she and John had seated themselves beside the piano, at which Denise was sitting, playing chords at random.

"Denise?" John asked, almost tentatively, "Could we sing…that song?"

Denise looked at him, shock in her eyes. What made him think that she could sing it again?

"What song?" Elizabeth asked, curious.

"It's a duet that Denise wrote. My brother and she would sing it all the time…they were engaged, once. I always wanted to sing it. Could we?" John asked Denise again. "That is, if you do not mind, Mademoiselle?"

"Of course not. I would love to hear it. What is it called?"

Denise's hands were frozen on the piano. Sing it again? How…? She needed to move on, she knew. But to begin with something such as…

"As Long As You're Mine." She said. "It's a song Simon, John's brother, and I wrote together. …yes, John. We can sing it."

John smiled and stood.

"Thank you."

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Denise let her hands glide along the keys until she found the right chord. She began to play, then sang, softly at first:

"_Kiss me too fiercely,  
Hold me too tight.  
I need help believing  
You're with me tonight.  
My wildest dreamings  
Could not foresee  
Lying beside you  
With you wanting me!"_

Her voice grew stronger with each line, and she began being surrounded by memories. Her and Simon, writing the song and laughing…

_"And just for this moment-"_

Now, they were children, playing their own little version of 'tag',

_  
"As long as you're mine-"_

She was seventeen, and they were dancing and smiling,

_  
"I've lot all resistance-" _

They were kissing for the first time, under the stars of London,

_  
"And crossed some borderline-"_

And now…now, they were under different stars. He was on one knee, holding out to her the most beautiful ring in the world, atop of the most beautiful building in the world, about to make the most beautiful commitment…

_  
"And if it turns out,  
It's over too fast…  
I'll make every last moment last  
As long as you're mine!"_

She was almost surprised when she heard John's rougher tenor voice instead of Simon's smooth baritone,

"_Maybe I'm brainless-  
Maybe I'm wise.  
But you've got me seeing  
Though different eyes."_

If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was him…

_  
"Somehow I've fallen  
Under your spell.  
And somehow I'm feeling,  
It's up that I fell!"_

She could see his face, with her eyes closed…she was singing to him, _with_ **him**_…_

"_Every moment,  
As long as you're mine,  
I'll wake up my body,  
And make up for lost time!"_

He was singing to her…

"_Say there's no future,  
For us as a pair,"_

And now…now, they were singing together again…and she was swept up in the passion…

"_And though, I may know,  
I don't care!_

_  
Just for this moment,  
As long as you're mine,  
Come be how you want to,  
And see how bright we shine!_

_  
Borrow the moonlight,  
Until it is through.  
And know I'll be here holding you  
As long as you're mine!"_

There was faint clapping…she opened her eyes, and she was back in the orchestra pit, singing with John to warm up her voice. Elizabeth was smiling and clapping her hands.

"That was beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you." Denise mumbled softly.

A few moments later, they were doing scales…and not one of them noticed that there had been someone _else_ listening…

* * *

A week later, Denise, Elizabeth, Francis (Monsieur Basset) and John had stayed after rehearsals to practice, as had become their custom. Now that it was Ten O Clock, they were heading home. John offered to take Elizabeth home, to which Elizabeth eagerly accepted. John offered to take Denise home, as well, but she refused.

"I prefer to walk alone, and beside that, I have to finish cleaning my things out of the costume room."

"Are you certain? We could wait for you." Elizabeth said, worried.

"I'm certain, thank you, however."

Elizabeth nodded and they began for home. Denise walked into the costume room, suddenly wishing she had taken the offer. It was dark and her heart was beating quickly. Fear gripped her until she felt ill and could no longer breathe correctly. That feeling of impending doom returned. She considered leaving, but no…she should finish what she had started. It would only be a waste of time to not remove her things now. Her hands shaking, she tried to light a lamp, but every time the match was lit, it blew out again. She peered into the severe darkness, but could not see neither red nor golden eyes.

"…Monsieur Phantom?" she whispered. She knew he was in there, somehow she _knew…_and she was afraid.

She picked up the lamp, deciding to light it outside. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. The lamp shattered as it hit the floor. An arm wrapped around her waist, and a hand holding a piece of cloth covered her nose and mouth before she had the chance to scream. She struggled against the Phantom as much as she could; struggled with all her might to get away…this was too much like before! But no…the Phantom was far too strong. He made certain she could not slip away, or move her mouth from the cloth which was emitting a strange scent.

Suddenly, she couldn't fight anymore. She lost all strength…and an even more terrifying darkness was closing in on her…a tear fell from her eye.

_Not again…_and then she was unconscious.

* * *

RubyMoon's Secret Place

RubyMoon: I know, not too good. But the 'good' part is coming up. At least, as good as I can remember and write it. Please review. Ja Ne!


	5. Chapter Four Trapped Again

A/N: A few things to settle. There are a lot of complaints about confusion…DO NOT WORRY. It will all…well, mostly all…be explained in the next few chapters.

I do not own the song Denise sings…it is from the Opera Othello, by Giuseppe Verdi. I also do not own the 'Italian lullaby'. That is actually the Italian parts of the song 'The Prayer', sung by Charlotte Church and Josh Groban (I don't know who wrote it). I also do not own the song Erik sings, that is owned by Vampiress787.

See first chapter for other disclaimers.

This chapter was VERY hard to write. It took me three days to write it…and I'm homeschooled, so that's quite a bit of time. Much more time then I'm used to it taking. But it's a lot harder to remember what happened at that point of the game, since it was so long ago. So hard, in fact, that I may not write this at all. I'll try a few more chapters and see how it goes.

Also: I asked in the first chapter, but no one has answered yet: Since you can get away with things in roleplaying that you can't in fanfiction, there are a lot of…erm…'out of the ordinary' things that may happen. If you'd rather I edit some of the more unbelievable things out, please let me know. If you'd rather I keep them in, please let me know.

A lot happens in this chapter, and it was hard to write…so please, PLEASE let me know what you think (in other words, I'm begging for reviews)!

Enjoy.

* * *

At first, the only thing she was aware of was darkness. But then she was able to use her other senses. Smell; She could smell a candle burning, and a strange, musky scent, like a damp cellar would have. Taste; She tasted a familiar bitter taste in her agonizingly dry mouth. Hearing; she could hear herself breathing slowly, and the sound of the candle flickering. Feel; She could feel something soft against her back, and something silky above her, and she also felt a horrible throbbing in her head. She could feel that outside a strange cocoon of warmth around her body it was unpleasantly cold. And finally, Sight: She could see fabric draped across the white four-poster bed she was in…a canopy. There was a small night-stand beside her, which held nothing atop it. But, worst of all: As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see - a little further- metal bars. A cage. She was trapped in a cage…again.

Certainly, it was much larger then the last one…it was the size of a fairly well-sized bedroom…but a cage is a cage, no matter how large.

"NO!" Denise cried and she flew out of the bed. She paused, looking down. She wasn't wearing the black dress she had been wearing earlier…now she was in a simple white nightgown…

She rushed to the cold metal bars and placed her hands around two, and began shaking them. There was the door, but it was locked!

"No!" she cried again, her throat burning from the roughness of her cry. "Let me go! You cannot do this! You cannot-"

"Ah, but _I think that I can."_ Came an icy, detached voice. The voice itself was breathtaking in beauty, but the way it was used to speak caused Denise's heart to race…it was evil and cruel and _insane_.

The Phantom of the Opera stepped out of the shadows. Denise had always held a sort of morbid interest with the Phantom…she had tried to track his history down (never having believed him to be a real Phantom), and she had done rather well. Perhaps it was because she felt she could identify with him, with him losing Christine Daaé to the handsome Raoul de Changy, and her losing Simon Sully to perfect Rosemary Noel…

But now, as he stood there, a tall, dark figure in a pure black dress-suit, full black mask, and glowing red eyes…she was petrified. She felt as though her heart had stopped, and she could feel her whole body shaking with terror.

"P-please…" she swallowed hard as she tried to get control of her mouth and her mind. "Let me go."

"No." was his simple answer. Suddenly, something inside her exploded. All her rage of the past year suddenly demanded to be released. She took a step back and took a deep breath.

"NO!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME! YOU CANNOT…" she fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. "YOU CANNOT CAGE ME! What is _wrong with you_? **I AM NOT SOME KIND OF ANIMAL!" **Her throat was now raw.

"Oh, but I can cage you, _my Canary-bird._" He spat the last words.

"Canar-" Denise began in confusion.

"Sing"

"What?"

"**_Sing!_**"

Denise took another step back, this time in fear.

"No." she said, her voice shaking. He stepped up closer to the bars, until he was nearly touching them. He was silent for what seemed an eternity. Denise could feel her heart pounding…should she say something?

"…_No?_" he asked slowly, in a tone of voice that sent a shiver down Denise's spine and made her blood turn cold.

"I am not a bird! I am a _human bei-_"

"_Silence!_" he spat. Denise jumped, but did not speak. "You _will_ do as you are told, or…"

"Or…?" she asked fearfully.

"Or all those you love will be dead."

Denise stopped breathing. Simon's face flashed through her mind, then John's, and then…Rosemary…

"No." she whimpered, as the tears spilled down her face. "_Please_, no."

"**Sing.**" He commanded.

Denise swallowed hard. She wouldn't accept this-she _wouldn't_! It wasn't happening...

The door to the cage swung open, and then shut behind the Phantom. She hadn't even seen him slip in.

"Stand _straight!_" he demanded. She stood straighter…almost impossibly straight. "Now…sing."

She thought fast…what song could she sing? The only song that came to her mind was a song from the current Opera, _Othello_. The song Desdemona sung, moments before her husband killed her. Denise took a deep breath, and sung in a hollow voice:

"_I am sad, very sad.  
My mother had a poor maidservant,  
Beautiful and in love;  
Her name was  
Barbara. She loved  
A man who later abandoned her; she used to sing  
A song: 'The Willow Song.' "_

She paused a moment, watching the Phantom as he walked slowly around her, observing her posture. She nearly screamed as he pushed her shoulders even further back, but one look into his blood-red eyes and she knew she had to keep singing.

_" 'She wept, singing,  
On the lonely heath,  
The sad girl wept.  
O Willow! Willow! Willow!  
She sat, hanging  
Her head on her-"_

"**STOP!**" he exclaimed. Denise quickly stepped away from him. "You are not singing correctly."

"I…" she objected, but then, looking into his eyes, she stopped.

"Sing like _this._" He spoke, and then he began to sing in a chilling, haunting voice:

"_Now in the dark as you wait,_

_You see the light, will you wake?_

_In dreams that give you pain,_

_You seek the truth through all the shame._

_Drip like venom, drip like poison,_

_Is the passion that I have stolen._

_So sing you now, and sing you true,_

_Or it will be the death of you."_

There was a brief moment of silence, and then he spoke,

"Sing with _heart_. Now, sing it _correctly_."

She swallowed hard, and tried to collect herself. She gripped her hands together to try to stop them from shaking, but it was no use…her entire body was shaking.

She opened her mouth, and began again,

"_I am sad, very sad.  
My mother had a poor maidservant,  
Beautiful and in love;  
Her name was  
Barbara. She loved  
A man who later abandoned her; she used to sing  
A song: 'The Willow Song.' "_

He began to walk around her again, and he pulled her shoulders even further back and pushed his other hand against her back, forcing it to be painfully straight. More tears came to her eyes.

_" 'She wept, singing,  
On the lonely heath,  
The sad girl wept.  
O Willow! Willow! Willow!  
She sat, hanging  
Her head on her breast!  
O Willow! Willow! Willow!  
Let us sing! the funereal willow  
Shall be my garland.' "_

He placed a hand under her chin and forced her to raise her head. She choked back a cry of revulsion and continued,

_" 'The birds came flying down from the dark branches  
Toward that sweet song,  
And her eyes wept so much, so much  
They would have moved stones to pity.' "_

He continued to walk around her, still 'fixing' her posture. Her muscles were screaming in pain of the unusual position.

'_He was born for his glory, I to love him and to die.  
Let us sing!  
Willow! Willow! Willow!' "_

"…better." He growled. They stood there in silence a moment, then he turned and walked to the door of the cage. Quicker then she could follow, he unlocked the door, stepped out, closed the door, and locked it. Then he stepped into the darkness. A moment later, she could hear a door open and close.

"No!" she cried. She listened intently for a moment, but heard nothing. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.

* * *

How long had it been? Ten minutes, two hours, a day? She'd been lying there on that bed, staring at the ceiling, since she had managed to pull herself off the floor. She wished she knew how long it had been…maybe that would help.

What would help even more was if she knew how long she would be trapped there. What if he decided to keep her there forever? How could she survive? Would she? And what would John do about her disappearance? Of course, she knew her father would make a big deal about trying to find her…but he wouldn't really care. Rosemary might try a little, but she would mostly be relieved. John would really be the only one looking, and really wanting to find her…but then, he did have Elizabeth to keep his mind off things…after all, he wasn't in love with Denise. He'd try for a little while, but then he might decide she had just tried to escape.

But she'd find a way out. After all, she had escaped last time. And, if Christine Daaé could escape the Phantom of the Opera, then certainly…

That was when she realized: Christine Daaé had only been able to escape the Phantom because Raoul de Changy hadn't given up on her.

Denise had no Raoul. Simon had helped her escape before, but now he had Rosemary. Now, he didn't love her. She had no one who would care enough to go down and rescue her. She was trapped with no one to save her! The reality of the situation fell on her, and she began to cry again. She was tapped in a cage, caged by a madman.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew she could hear the cage door closing. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. There stood the Phantom…except now, something was different.

Something about him was…gentler?…and now, instead of black, he wore a white mask. And now…now his eyes were gold, instead of red. He opened his mouth,

"Come." He said. Somehow, even his voice was different. It didn't hold that cruel quality, though for some reason it still made Denise's stomach knot. "There is something I want to show you."

She hesitantly slipped out of the warm covers. She looked down at herself; she was in a blue night-gown now.

"I…" the complaint died on her lips as she watched him unlock the door and open it, then motion for her to walk out ahead of him. She approached the door, terrified and hopeful.

He stopped her from walking out by placing a hand on her shoulder. He took out a piece of white cloth and put it over her eyes. Panic surged her body. She tried to make herself run, but at the same time, she knew she wouldn't get far. She clenched her fists instead as he tied the blindfold into place.

He placed a hand on her back and gently pushed Denise out ahead of him. Then she felt him walk around her to her right side, and he took hold of her arm and began leading her away. As they walked, she closed her eyes and counted the steps and turns, committing them to memory.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…left. One two, three, four, five, six…right. One, two, three, four, five, six… right. One, two, three, four, five… left. One, two, three, four…left. One, two, three, four…right. One, two, three…right._

After a few more steps, they stopped. She heard a door open to her right, and she was then led into the room. He entered behind her, then shut the door, and began to untie the blindfold. When she felt the fabric fall from her eyes she opened them, then she gasped in shock.

She was in an average-sized room, which would have looked like a little girl's room if it weren't for a small pond in the center of it. Scattered about were child's playthings…dolls, dollhouses, a white rocking-horse, a rolling hoop, a 'Game of Graces' set, and even a carriage off to one side. It had everything…everything she didn't have as a child.

"This is all yours…" the Phantom said from behind her. Then he added, in a quivering voice, "…I am not all monster."

Denise's heart pounded in fear, and she suddenly felt ill. He was more insane then she had ever believed! Somehow, this version of him, this…calm, gentle, attentive him was more frightening then the cruel him.

He placed the blindfold over her eyes again.

"There is something else I want to show you." He said softly. Denise choked back a whimper and nodded. What was next?

He led her out of the room and they continued down the hall.

_Left, one, two, three, four…left. One, two, three, four, five…right. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…left. One, two, three…right. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…_they stopped again.

She felt him untie the knot, and she opened her eyes again once he had removed the blindfold. She was in a much larger room now…a room which very much deserved the title 'Sitting Room'. There was a fireplace and a few candles lit here and there. There was no divan or chairs, only large cushions that had been placed on the floor in a seemingly random matter. To her right there was a door, and in front of her two doors. To her left there was another door, and but directly to the left of her, against the wall, was a very large organ.

"Please…make yourself at home." The Phantom said. Denise did not move an inch, but stood there, fearing that if she moved something dreadful would happen...that if she touched something it would make everything that was happening all the more real. Besides, she didn't want to 'make herself at home' in the house of a madman that was holding her prisoner.

The Phantom walked past her and sat at the organ.

"_This_ is how you should sing…" he said. He began to play a few notes, and then he began to sing:

"_La luce che tu dai,_

_Nel cuore restera,_

_A ricordarci che,_

_L'eterna stella sei,_

_Nella mia preghiera,_

_Quanta fede c'e,  
Sogniamo un mondo senza piu violenza. "_

Denise swayed as he began to sing. It was a soft, Italian lullaby. In his voice was a large array of emotions, and such softness and breathtaking, awe-inspiring beauty…Denise gave a longing sigh. She wished she could truly sing like that.

"_Un mondo di giustizia e di speranza,  
Ognuno dia la mano al suo vicino,  
Simbolo di pace e di fraternita._

_La forza che ci dai,  
E'il desiderio che,_

_Ognuno trovi amore,_

_Intorno e dentro a se,_

_E la fede che,  
Hai acceso in noi,  
Sento che ci salvera."_

He moved on to another song after that. And then another, and then another. She must have stood there for hours, just listening to him sing. After what must have been at least four hours, he stopped. He suddenly seemed to remember her. Denise certainly had the opportunity to remember herself, and curse herself for not trying to get away earlier.

"…You must sing with _soul_," he said softly, "or there is no point in singing at all."

Oh, how she _hated_ him! He made her remember what she had tried to forget. He caged her, called her an animal, and forced her to sing. The least God could have done was given him a devil's voice to go with his face! But no…this monster could sing better then anyone she had ever heard.

She stared straight ahead as she heard him stand and approach her. Her fists were clenched and shaking, and it wasn't until he took her by the wrist and made her raise and open her hand that she realized that her nails had dug so much into her palms that she was bleeding.

"You shouldn't do that." He chastised her. He walked away from her and past the organ, through an unseen door. Now was her opportunity…but which door? And what if he caught her? Or what if she was trapped in the fabled 'Torture Chamber'? Would he even let her out, or would he simply let her die of her own foolishness?

_That doesn't matter! Death is better then being trapped here!_ A voice said in the back of her mind. She agreed.

She was about to try the door directly across from her, when he stepped out. She had been too late.

He walked up to her once more, this time holding out a tea cup.

"It'll settle you down." He promised. She hesitantly took the cup into her shaking, bleeding hands. She smelled it, and almost smiled. Lemon tea…her favorite. But there was something strange about it…

Pushing the last thought aside, she took a tentative sip, and then swallowed most of it down quickly. It burned her throat, but she was dying of thirst…and it was settling her down.

"What…" her voice failed, and she tried again. "What time is it?"

"Does that really matter? Here, it is always night." The Phantom informed her. Denise nodded.

"I suppose it doesn't matter…I just want to know…please."

There was a moment of silence, and then,

"It is Six O Clock."

"…oh. Thank you." She said, and then swallowed the rest. She didn't like the way he was looking at her…she did not like it at all.

Suddenly, the world went black.

* * *

RubyMoon's Secret Place

* * *

RubyMoon: Okay, so Erik isn't as scary as I had hoped. Its much more scary when you're fully in Denise's character, and your heart races when hers does, and you're scared like she is, and you're friend is doing this incredibly creepy/insane voice for Erik. …and she's female. : weird face : ANYWAY! Please, do review. Ja Ne! 


End file.
